


ignes inter fulmina

by pikatif



Series: red as the dawn [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rebels, Superpowers, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:40:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23935477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikatif/pseuds/pikatif
Summary: Silver blood means power.Red blood means subservience.Aside from forbidden romance, there's a war going on, and it's not with the Lakes.-Or: extra scenes from caleo, along with new perspectives.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Lee Taeyong/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten
Series: red as the dawn [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725274
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	ignes inter fulmina

**Author's Note:**

> >>>if you haven't read caleo, that's fine since this first chapter is a prelude of sorts, but i'd recommend reading it for the next chapters (if you're interested)  
> -  
> been struggling w/ motivation ig and ch12 especially, but some ppl were a little confused on context and then i went back to what i cut and realised... it's all p important stuff lmao, i am a Fool for not keeping this, so it's here for those who want it!   
> i didn't edit this AT ALL so it's probably a little bad, sorry  
> anyway hope it clears some stuff up x

Despite the fact that it was July, Donghyuck found the wind still whipping at his face without a single trace of regret in the relentless weather of the Stilts. His dirty blond, faded ginger, light brown hair – whatever non-special colour it was, he couldn’t determine – blocked his view of the shore in front of him. A coastal shanty town wasn’t the greatest living space, but it was better than the suffocation of the tech cities or the constant natural disasters of the north tundra, and certainly better than the radiation wasteland of the south deserts. Of course, an actual city would’ve been nice, but (if they did exist) the gods’ only blessings to Donghyuck were his insufferable sass, light feet that made it easy to thieve, and Jisung, his adopted little brother. Well, his whole family were adopted, but Jisung made being Red a lot easier, having gotten a job as Silvertown’s messenger, and also as a squire for the town’s courtroom, after countless months spent teaching himself shorthand – the boy alone could probably provide for their whole extended family. Little overachiever.

Meanwhile, Donghyuck could barely do simple addition – but it wasn’t _his_ fault the education system in the Stilts wasn’t exactly on par with that of, say, Haven, or any of the other Silver cities. Jisung was always the golden child – super clumsy, yeah – but still the only one of his foster family who’d managed to escape conscription. Tsubaki got conscripted first, and Ten left just a year afterwards; that’s where the red and purple gemstone earrings came from. Now, a dude wearing jewellery certainly wasn’t smiled upon, but did Donghyuck give a shit? No, the only thing he gave anything about was the fact that Jeno _still_ hadn’t returned from this dumb fishing trip that wasn’t even meant to be a proper fishing trip. _Never trust an orphan_ , thought the hypocritical orphan as he tried to tuck his fringe behind his pierced ear, only to have it use the act as momentum to swing back and slap him straight in the eye. Maybe he needed a haircut.

Once his temporary blindness had faded, Donghyuck finally caught sight of that one ugly boat in the harbour that could only belong to old Mrs Ki. Not long after noticing said boat did the boy feel someone nudge his arm.

“You’re gonna need a haircut soon Hyuck, bet you can’t even see me in all this bloody wind.”

He nudged back, grinning, “How’d you not _shipwreck_ in all this bloody wind? Would’ve done us all a favour, but alas,” and then Donghyuck held up Jeno’s purse – his pay for the week – watching smugly as his friend patted himself down, mouth agape, “even the weather’s against my wishes.”

Donghyuck let Jeno snatch the purse back, giggling as the taller grumbled complaints under his breath, something between not wanting Donghyuck to hear but also secretly wanting him to hear and start a fight. A fight sounded lovely, but not tonight. Tonight were the Feats.

Now, Donghyuck didn’t hate the Feats. He merely loathed them. Jeno, on the other hand, was more than willing to ignore the blindingly obvious propaganda and display of hierarchal power that were the Feats and pretend to have a good time, but Donghyuck was not. He only went because Jisung was working and his parents were resting and he had no one else to spend time with other than Jeno. Previous years he’d managed to skive and hang out with Ten, or old Pippa, or even find some other delinquents to prowl the streets with, rather than attend to the Silvers’ wishes, like every Red had to do for their whole life.

Perhaps it was good that he’d see the Silver superpowers up close one last time before he died – he’d get to see what was waiting for him after conscription. Summer round-ups were at the end of the month, and he’d be sent to death alone. Jisung and Jeno had jobs, so they were safe, and that’s all that Donghyuck really cared about. Donghyuck was never meant to serve, and those were the only jobs: serving food, serving lords, serving clothes, serving ladies, serving Silvers. He’d go to the Choke any day over serving tea to a Silver dressed in clothes that cost more than his house doubled.

The heavy drum of thunder overhead shocked Donghyuck back to the real world. Soon, he wasn’t even sure if he actually heard thunder anymore or if it was just the boom of the crowd around the coliseum. Looking up at the dark grey sky, he decided it probably _was_ thunder, and with any luck, they’d cancel the Feats because of the storm. They’d done it before, the pampered little snobs. Probably didn’t want to wet their expensive silks.

The first match was a hulking strongarm of house Angus against a scrawny-looking boy from a house he’d never heard of before – Nathair.

“I’m betting on the strongarm,” Jeno made for the betting alley but his friend yanked him back down before he could get an inch further.

“The fuck if you’re betting you’re liver, don’t waste money on those _monsters_.” Once again, Donghyuck had stolen Jeno’s purse, and was displaying it in his left hand. “This is a week’s pay as an _apprentice_ , Jen. Think of what it’ll be when you graduate!”

Jeno’s puppy eyes and indignant whine almost convinced him, “But Hyuck, you know it’s _always_ the strongarm who wins!” Keyword: almost.

“What if he’s a telkie? Then your money’s lost, so sit down and watch the show or I’m leaving with this.”

After a few solid seconds of death-glaring (at which Donghyuck was clearly the better), they finally settled down and made zero bets – a good thing too, because the strongarm certainly didn’t win the match.

House Nathair were whispers. Whispers can’t just read minds, they can control them. The strongarm was forced into beating himself, over and over, silver painting the sand and mixing with the rainwater. The whisper showed no remorse – after all, they had their Silver healers. Still, healers can’t heal a dead man, and the sight made Jeno nearly belch. It made Donghyuck furious. Not the gore, not the apathy, not even the Silvers in the arena, but the whole _situation_. Reds were really so weak that simply by attending such a shameless ritual they were rewarded with bread and bottles and bills, thrown into the seats by the surrounding Sentinels, who were just another reminder of how trapped their kind really was. The Silvers were born with powers, powers that could literally control people – it was no wonder they were the ones at the top of the food chain. It could’ve been funny in another life, that your worth was denoted by something as incurable as the colour of your blood.

A great crashing sounded in the arena, and it wasn’t the strongarm’s screams or the calls of the Guards. It was a lightning bolt, one that had struck the trees nearest the walls of the stadium. The trees were only a few hundred metres away from where Donghyuck and Jeno were sitting, and the wailing winds paired with the sudden wave of cold from the increasing rain told Donghyuck that the storm wouldn’t be letting up anytime soon. Jeno must have had the same thought, because they both leapt out of their seats simultaneously, jumping over the rows as if they were just kids again, playing hurdles by the beach rocks. Of course, they weren’t kids anymore, and their actions actually had consequences, and the consequences of trying to leave the Feats halfway through were whippings (and not the hair-in-your-eyes kind). They were caught by the Guards. Despite feeling as if he were being tortured by a shiver, Donghyuck only felt heat in his body as he glared into the eyes of the Guard who held him and Jeno back, untying an all too familiar red coil from his waist.

Donghyuck could take a whipping – he’d suffered worse even – but he’d always made sure Jeno kept on the straight and narrow, and the poor boy with his paling complexion, jittering shoulders, and skin too smooth to be beaten, would probably be bedridden for days if he got punished in this weather. Donghyuck cursed the Silvers, the Guard in front of him, the gods themselves if they even existed, but in a quieter, more fleeting thought, he cursed himself. Before the Guard could even announce their punishment, another great crash came from behind the pair, leaving a painful thrumming in Donghyuck’s ears, mixed in with the gurgled screams of a dying Silver. He turned and saw that the lightning had struck the whisper down, almost in divine retribution, and Donghyuck couldn’t help but smile at the idea. He was even more awful for widening his smile when the Silvers announced that the Feats were cancelled.

-o-O-o-

Dinner was never quiet at the Lee household. The whole of the Stilts knew the racket the family caused, but, ironically, it was _because_ they heard every threat and fact thrown between the bickering souls that the neighbours never complained, despite the thin plaster and tin walls being the only thing to block the sound (which they didn’t do at all). Anyone would be afraid of Tsubaki and her hulking figure, a she-wolf taller than all the men in the Stilts, and undoubtedly stronger – a good thing too, since she was still alive, out on the battlefield for her fifth year running. Anyone would be afraid of Ten, his presence always sending an eerie sense of foreboding down people’s spines, because he would always know your secrets – no matter how well anyone tried to hide them, Ten knew it all, and he definitely used that to his advantage. He’d probably blackmailed the whole army by now, as he wasn’t dead yet either. Donghyuck didn’t know whether to smile or scowl, so instead he just grimly chuckled at the idea that he’d soon join his siblings on the front lines. Two weeks and he’d be swept away by black masks and pale skin.

Of course, without the two eldest troublemakers at home, the foreigner would assume the Lee household to be vulnerable – and then that foreigner would be hung up on the Lec poles, probably stripped, for all the town to see – and no one would blink an eye, because that’s just what Saph did. Honey would have joined her once, too, but the war left many scars on its soldiers and took all that it could in its greed, including one of Honey’s legs. She refrained from hanging loiterers only because she was bound to a chair with wheels. Jeno actually made that, so at least he was handy for something, other than pestering Donghyuck or defending the devil herself, _Mimi_. If only Jeno hated cats as much as Donghyuck did, but then again Mimi was 99.9% of his reason to hate the things. Dogs weren’t much better, but at least they listened on the occasion; meanwhile, Mimi prowled around the cupboards and table tops and even bed sheets as if she owned the place, never listening to a single thing anyone said. Too bad Honey actually liked the creature, else Saph would’ve sent Mimi to the streets long ago.

Besides, their house was always loud because of Donghyuck. He loved to complain, and had picked up the habit of enjoying an argument from Ten, just as he’d picked up the habit of yelling to get his point across from Tsubaki, though with his smaller form it wasn’t anywhere near as effective as when she used to do it (though that only made him do it more, and louder, with more swearing). Jisung, ever the golden child, didn’t really take part in these debates; he preferred to sit and eat his meal, then get onto his letters, only ever pausing to correct a statistic or fun fact about the child mortality rates in the country, or another topic just as merry. It was less loud without the two eldest, but Honey only got to let off steam through words, so just arguing with her was enough to wake the whole neighbourhood. This time the topic was a bit different from the usual politics or ‘Mimi is Satan in disguise’ – this time the topic was Donghyuck, and the fact that he’d stolen the meat they were currently eating, and might he add that it was indeed very delicious and should not be receiving the criticism it was getting at the moment.

“I’m never good enough for you, aren’t I?”

That line was an exception, a quiet mutter amidst the chaos, but it commanded the room into silence. A crackle of thunder from the outside storm rocked the already rickety house, the lightning serving as much needed extra light in order to properly see the solemn expressions on each family member’s face. Candles only did so well, and they made Jisung’s bright young eyes glitter far too much in the dimness.

Saph was the first to answer with her lies, “You’ve always been good enough for us, Hyuck. Just having you here is good enough.”

He scoffed, Jisung tensing next to him, only then putting down his oh-so-important paperwork, “You’re only saying that because I’m being sent to my death in a fortnight. And _don’t_ -” He snapped before either of his mothers could ‘correct’ him, “Don’t you _dare_ try and say I won’t die. I’m not strong like Tsubaki. I’m not clever like Ten. And I’m not fucking _perfect_ , okay?”

Donghyuck would never call out his only younger sibling, but it was clear who he meant in that last part, Jisung squirming in his seat next to him.

“Hyuck, the food’s delicious.” And those words from Honey could’ve appeased him, though they were pitiful. They could’ve ended this battle. And then she spoke again, and ruined all his plans. “We’re just worried-”

“Worried about what?” He cut them off, stabbing his knife so hard into his dinner the plate broke and it landed in the brittle wood of their hand-me-down table. He didn’t know where he was going with this argument, what the point was anymore or what it even was to begin with – but then again, does anyone _ever_ know what the point is?

“You can’t be _worried_. There’s nothing worse than the Choke.” _Lies_. He thought it just earlier that day, that he’d rather be sentenced to death than serve the Silvers.

Saph moved to slap some sense into the boy, but it was Jisung who shook his head at her, allowing Honey a second chance to fix the mess, her tone no longer soft and sweet like her name. “Donghyuck, your parents trusted you to us when they died in the war and we survived. That means we protect you, from yourself if we must.” Her voice softened again, “There are fates worse than death, love.”

Like the sudden drop of a bomb, Donghyuck realised what she meant. She’d survived the war, but only at the cost of a limb and a soul, the glow in her eyes and golden hair gone from the old pictures the family always saw of her, hanging above the grate, depicting a time before the days of conscription. Those days ended, and death would’ve been a welcome release compared to living a life strapped into a chair, unable to fend for herself. She was still alive because of them, because of him.

He slumped in his chair, plucking his knife sluggishly from the table, “Sorry for the… stab.”

Luckily Donghyuck had lost his appetite, because all thoughts of dinner were thrown to the wind of the storms outside as they all drew their attention to the familiar sound of the doorbell. Donghyuck was nearest, and bounded over to shove the rusted thing open. If recruiting day had come early, he was going to face it head on. No more patronising. However, instead of a black mask, or a Silver at all, he was met by a trembling young lad, cheeks red and body jittering either from the cold of the storm or from the presence of the Lees, or both. The boy gave Donghyuck a letter, said nothing, and went away into the night. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief, Jisung coming over to shut the door, flinching when he felt a static shock the first time he went for the handle, but got it shut and locked on the second try.

No roll-call, but an envelope. That meant it was a letter from Ten (Tsubaki was worse than Donghyuck at literacy, and she hadn’t even dropped out like he did, so the letters never came from her, though she was always mentioned). Everyone crowded around Jisung as he read the letter aloud, being the best reader of the lot (and the only one).

_Hi Honeys,_

Of course Ten would start it like that. Donghyuck had to roll his eyes, but he shared the same smile that Jisung had as he read, struggling not to corpse.

_We got called back from the front, and I’m writing this on an actual break. We got a fucking_ break _, and it’s the best sleep I’ve had in the near four years I’ve been here. The mist isn’t gloomy like the old books say, it’s actually pretty. Maybe even as pretty as the captain. Or me. Definitely prettier than you lot. It glows, red as the dawn, reflected in the sun, and I wish I had my paints because I’d paint it right here on this letter, but the officers took those away. Bastards. Left me in gunfire the other day too, got shot in the bloody shoulder – but I’m all good now, no infections, no lasting damage. Don’t worry mum._

Honey hiccups – though the message could’ve been to either of them, even Saph accepts that it’s Honey. Honey’s mum, Saph’s… well, Saph.

_Haven’t heard from Tsu in a while, but I’m sure she’s fine. She’s tall so I’m sure I’ll see her monobrow poking over the roof anytime now – after all, five-year leave is coming up. Personally, I don’t think it’s an equal trade-off. I’d rather have Tsu backing me up (pun not intended) than Hyuck any day. Little shit’ll probably shoot me himself. I can hear you snickering, demon. Jisung, keep everyone out of trouble and make sure Hyuck doesn’t skin Mimi before I get back, as I would very much like to pet her again. Mum, you know I want to be back as soon as possible. I miss the hangings, Saph, I really do. The Silvers are so ugh, you’d think I’d be bored._

_Love you all, don’t get in too much trouble, and trust in me._

_Your favourite, Ten._

When Honey burst into tears, Jisung had to fold the letter away to protect the ink from smudging, insisting that she’d regret it if her son’s letter got ruined so soon, but his scoldings soon turned into a hugging session with the blonde, his own lanky body bent awkwardly over to reach her seat. Comforting was always Jisung’s job, so Donghyuck simply exchanged a short smile with him before wandering out into the storm.

At least, it had been a storm, but the clouds seemed to have finally cleared, the moon in all its dappled glory just visible between the black fluff in the sky. Saph was out too, messing with the generator. She had a yellow paper in her hand – a Lec paper – but when she slotted it into the machine, nothing happened. Donghyuck had wondered why their meal was shared under candlelight, but this must’ve been the reason. Rolling his eyes for no one to see, he strolled over and hit the unsightly metal cube over its head with his hand, slapping it into sense. Literally, as it began to whir and crackle mere moments after the act. Saph snapped her head to glare at him, eyes wide despite her arched brows. Donghyuck simply shrugged.

Now, a forest wander under moonlight was exactly what he wanted, what he needed, but that’s not what he got.

Instead, Donghyuck received a figure soaked in saltwater, black hair plastered to the sides of his face, which was earlier so expressive and soft and happy. Now, Jeno looked like death. Apparently, that wasn’t far from the truth, words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall, each one landing on a sharper stone than the last.

“The storm – I, we- we crashed into some rocks – the wind was blowing everywhere and something must’ve torn the sail, I tried to- I tried to jump out but got caught in the stupid railing and then Mrs Ki got me out but then the boat shook again and she- and she fell and I couldn’t see her and I swam for her but I couldn’t see her, Hyuck, so I swam back here. Hyuck. _Hyuck_ , are you listening?”

He was listening, he just wasn’t believing. The facts flew through Donghyuck’s head like rapid fire. Recruitment day was less than two weeks away. Jeno was eighteen. Mrs Ki was presumably dead. Jeno no longer had a job. Jeno was eighteen, the age of conscription, and jobless.

“I already got a notice. They’re sending me to the war.”

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Donghyuck was meant to die alone.

-o-O-o-

The back edge of the Stilts, closest to the forests and old dirt roads that led to the neighbouring farmlands, was always a good place to go if one ever needed to have a mental breakdown and didn’t want anyone to know about it. The forest air had a calming aura and its abundance of oxygen, without the pollution of all the machinery, did wonders for the weary. Donghyuck found it was the best escape from the constant drone of cheap (and often faulty) electricity, a sound that haunted him throughout the rest of the village, especially annoying when a bulb went off – which unfortunately happened very frequently. However, the main reason why the phrase “I need to go out back [and cry all my problems away]” was so common (and existed at all) was because old Pippa’s hut stood guard behind the village, looking out for any stragglers that may need assistance or just a good old slap.

Now, the reason Donghyuck was so familiar with the woods was not entirely because he was an emotional wreck half the time, it was because old Pippa was the village’s local Gangsta Granny, in that she was a smuggler, and a drug dealer, and even rumoured to have once been an assassin. So, the trip out back was killing two birds with one stone, he insisted as Jeno trudged behind him drearily, hoping each step would be his last before he could be swept away and tortured for the sake of a petty Silver war, which at this point could’ve simply been caused over the fact that the Lakes had nymph royals and Norta had burner royals, or something equally as childish and stupid. The two birds were called Crying Away All the Bad Stuff and Attempting to Smuggle a Human Being, the first of which had been accomplished an hour ago when the pair first got to the woods, and it was a very ugly affair that will never be spoken of, ever, so we will not speak of it. They were on their way to the second, arriving in front of the near-camouflaged house in record time, despite having cried away all their energy, but only because Donghyuck had been there so many times he could probably find his way blindfolded.

Donghyuck gave the coded rat-tat-ta-ta-tat on the door and stepped away as he awaited the coming response, the worn creaky floorboards audible from the inside as the lady herself made her way to open the peephole, wrinkled eyes squinting about for a few moments as her poor eyesight finally registered the familiar face, as well as the unfamiliar one.

She croaked in suspicion, “We’re not part of the slave trade, Hyuckie.”

Sensing Jeno flare up in fear and disbelief beside him, with a little dash of betrayal mixed in for seasoning, Donghyuck quickly corrected the old woman with a judging glare, “I know that, just as much as I know that my best friend here is way too soft to ever be a slave, let alone be sent to the fucking war.”

He wasted no time in barging through the entrance once she unlocked the door, Jeno trailing after him in a panic, both ignoring the grumbling complaints that the old lady uttered as they stormed past. It took a mere five seconds of further explanation as to why the pair were there, and this granny, quick on the uptake and fully aware of what awful mess this would probably end up in, promptly rolled her eyes at their hopeless rebellion but led them to the other room nevertheless. Now, this was new to Donghyuck, as the famous Other Room was out of bounds to pretty much everyone apart from old Pippa and the smugglers themselves, who he’d only seen in person on two occasions in the entire time he’d done business at the forest hut. This time, he’d actually see what was hidden in its pine walls.

He was _not_ expecting the secret to be a pair of boys not much older than him, if they were even older at all. Both were undeniably beautiful and he really had to concentrate hard to register any other details besides _hot damn those jawlines_ , eventually deducing that both of them were quite intimidating despite their soft features. Their large, dark eyes held more age and trauma than their faces let on, and those were probably the main terrifying feature of the two – deep pools of inky black that didn’t glitter despite the flickering lights above. It was the scarier and perhaps older one who spoke first, with a voice deeper than expected and a tone warmer than he would’ve thought possible.

“Granny, why have you let these two children in here?”

Old Pippa didn’t seem fazed one bit about the pointed question, just nattering a shallow curse before snapping, “Oh heavens, they’re the same age as that other demon you keep with you! Don’t you go patronising my valuable suppliers, it’ll piss them off _and_ it’ll piss me off!” And then she stomped back into the main room, leaving the four boys to themselves.

The other boy sniggered at her outburst, fiddling with something in his hands as the older boy nodded at her disappearing figure. Suddenly, Donghyuck felt very alone and outnumbered without the assurance of at least one criminal he could trust, but now he was surrounded by two criminals that didn’t seem all that trustworthy and a miserable best friend who probably didn’t trust _him_ that much at the moment. He gulped, preparing for rejection after his speech, but once the explanation ended, he only received silence.

Older boy gave a single curt nod in understanding before reaching his hand out. _Weren’t handshakes a Lakelander thing?_ Donghyuck idly wondered as he took the hand cautiously, putting on a small smile that he hoped didn’t show his confusion.

He spoke again, somehow even sweeter, so sweet it must have been fake, but Donghyuck couldn’t detect any deceit in his actions, “Nice to make your acquaintance, Donghyuck, Jeno.” He moved to shake hands with Jeno as well. “I’m Taeyong, and I’m glad to inform you that you’ve come to the right place if you want to escape.”

The other boy piped up from behind, his voice a lot more sharp and annoying, although still surprisingly deep, “Uh, hello? I’m here as well, you can’t deny the fact by ignoring me,”

As much as his rudeness was a stark contrast to the politeness of Taeyong, and Donghyuck would’ve very much liked to do his head in at that moment for breaking the hopeful atmosphere, it was in fact Jeno, Mr Passive himself, who snapped at the boy, “Well it would help if you introduced yourself like your boss did, instead of complain in the background and expect to be noticed.”

The other boy raised his brows, impressed at Jeno’s boldness (meanwhile Donghyuck creased his in confusion and slight anger at the fact he didn’t get the spotlight of back-clapping the rude boy), and whistled. “Damn, right then. I’m Jaemin, and this guy ain’t my boss, just so you know.”

‘This guy’ turned to Jaemin and sighed, “I am for the moment and if you don’t behave I’ll put you on ration duty.”

That seemed to shut him up, although his clamped jaw and offended scowl said it all; he clicked something together in his hands, and only then did Donghyuck realise with a jolt that he’d been fiddling with a _real fucking gun_ the entire time, as if it was a toy. Now he was very glad he didn’t snap at the boy, because as much as Jeno was feeling particularly suicidal that day, Donghyuck’s stubborn arse would very much like to stay alive.

“Now,” Taeyong began, “back to your problem. Welcome to the Scarlet Guard.”

“Huh?” Both Donghyuck and Jeno uttered, perplexed.

Before any questioning could take place, however, Taeyong continued. “But you must know there’s a price. We can’t just smuggle people freely, we need an income somehow. You said you were a thief, right? Then one thousand crowns should be about the right amount.”

Every sentence caused more alarm and confusion within Donghyuck’s mind, warning bells ringing like the horrible sound of a shelling siren.

He could faintly make out Jaemin’s smirk out of the corner of his blurring vision, only just hearing him add an ominous “ _Each,_ ” onto the end of Taeyong’s offer. _One thousand fucking crowns – where the fuck does anyone find that kind of money?_

Next to him, trembling slightly, Jeno whispered in disbelief, “That’s two thousand crowns…”

It took a few seconds for those words to click in Donghyuck’s daze, but once they did he whipped round to shake some goddamn sense into his friend, “ _Two?_ No, no, I’m staying here, all I’m here to do is get _you_ out!”

He wasn’t prepared for Jeno’s steeled expression in response, and from that he knew he’d already made up his mind. “I’m not leaving without you, Hyuck.”

“No. No, you can’t.” Donghyuck tried, oh he _tried_ to convince some sense into that thick skull, but it was in vain. “Please, Jen, just listen- I’ll survive, you know I always do, right? But you- _you_ \- you’re not meant for war, you _have_ to escape, you’re more important and just one thousand might be achievable but not _two_ -”

Jeno turned to Taeyong, full of uncharacteristic confidence, speaking words that sounded completely wrong on a simple fisher boy’s tongue, “We accept your offer.”

“Famous last words,” Jaemin sneered, and Donghyuck was back to that primal urge to punch him in his perfectly symmetrical face, but was unfortunately interrupted by Taeyong.

“All good, then. You have until Monday morning to collect the currency and deliver it to us here at 0800, good luck.” Without hesitation, he pushed the two dumbfounded – they had how many days? _Two??_ – boys towards the entrance, sending them off with a final message: “Rise, Red as the dawn.”

His final words left Donghyuck with an awful sense of foreboding, something akin to when you wake up in the night and can’t move and wonder if the pollution has finally got to you and rendered you worse than dead, but it left an even more rancid taste in the air. It was definitely colder, and the rising sun did nothing to brighten the moody atmosphere; in fact, the wretched thing painted the forest in a sickly orange, near red, which only reminded him more and more of the Scarlet Guard as he and Jeno journeyed back home to the Stilts, away from all this illegal business. At least, that’s what he thought, until he remembered a certain phrase from his brother’s letter – ‘red as the dawn’ – and with a shiver realised how far this Scarlet Guard must have spread.

Without thinking, Donghyuck had probably gotten his friend into much deeper trouble than he was trying to save him from, and was certainly about to drag himself down instead of him if it was the last thing he did. Those ‘famous last words’ should’ve belonged to Donghyuck.

-o-O-o-

It was Jisung’s idea to attempt to rob Silvertown, which is why it was the best of all Donghyuck’s other, probably suicidal, ideas. The Silvers were all loaded and unsuspecting of a Red servant who might just so happen to slip past and steal a few expensive silks, and Jisung had done a very good job of convincing Donghyuck that this was the only way of acquiring two thousand crowns in the span of two days. Grab some fancy silks and trinkets, stuff easy to steal and hide and carry in abundance, then escape and sell them to Pippa. Well, ‘escape’ was probably the wrong word, as Donghyuck would be acting as Jisung’s assistant in carrying papers, because apparently the Silvers needed to write so much down that it was literally too much for one scrawny person to carry by himself – and here Donghyuck could barely remember how to write his own name. Well, whatever could get him safely in and out, he’d have to bear with.

Sneaking in was easy enough, blending in was even easier, as all it took to make them seem common and unworthy of suspicion was a bit of sibling banter, which consisted of Donghyuck teasing Jisung about this one boy he’d always visit for letters. Apparently, he “just wrote a lot of letters”, but Donghyuck could see the subtext even with his illiteracy; Jisung wasn’t part of Honey’s Home for Queers for no reason, after all. Same sex attraction was technically illegal, which is why Jisung was so adamant that he was the sole exception to their family’s history of odd romance, but their mothers had been passing as ‘very good friends’ for decades, so Donghyuck really didn’t see the issue.

The hard part was splitting up: Jisung _did_ have a job to be doing and a living to be making, so Donghyuck would have to manoeuvre the bustling streets of privileged Silvers by himself, without any notion of where the fuck he was. The only things he was aware of were the different abilities the Silvers were displaying, like the greeny whipping up a whole flower bush from a barren plant pot, the young nymph playing in the fountain, the slightly older shiver picking on the nymph by freezing each whip of water, the elderly strongarm transporting stone statues the size of the average house in the Stilts, and other super-powered people wandering about, using their superhuman abilities without a second thought, pretending that the Reds who lived in such deplorable conditions just a mile over didn’t exist. They certainly didn’t seem to notice the Reds who served them, at least. Then again, why would they?

It should’ve been easy to steal from them, they barely noticed Donghyuck’s presence at all, but there were Guards at every alley and the unnatural pulse of electricity in the air could only have been cameras, catching every detail that the Guards missed. He cursed under his breath, scanning the street for any areas of weakness, but finding near to none. There _was_ one where a Guard had left his post, opting for a drink at the pub next door instead, and by some godly luck his post was right next to the silk weavers’ and no extra cameras were humming about that street corner. Donghyuck should’ve sensed that this whole situation was too good to be true, but who is he to deny such an opening in favour of caution? That would be a coward, and, though a fool, Donghyuck was no coward.

Just as he was about to slip the first of many expensive-looking, multi-coloured (and in his opinion actually quite tacky) silks into his pockets, the pub next door erupted into outrage. Some programme had been interrupted by the deafening announcement of ‘breaking news’, the reporter going on to mention something about an explosion at the capital, destroying parts of the royal palace, an organised attack, and – worst of all – the Scarlet Guard. Rage rose all around him, threatening to drown him, and Donghyuck didn’t need to hear any more to know what he needed to do: _leg it_. The silk was so high-quality that it slipped right out of his fingers before he could stuff it fully into his pocket, and so it was lost to the pavement, but Donghyuck had other, much more important matters. The Silvers, with their entitlement and narrow-mindedness, would take out all their anger on the nearest Reds, but Donghyuck didn’t care about himself getting hurt, fate would make him suffer through yet another day regardless. He was looking for Jisung.

Moths of fear bit away at his heart, smudging out his hope with each passing second as he failed to locate his brother. Gritting his teeth, he snaked his way through alleyways, meandering in and out of the main street in an attempt not to be trampled on by a strongarm like the poor waitress at the bar, or flung into the clouds by a telkie like the Red mailman delivering a letter to the library. Some Silvers chose to hide themselves away – the parents with their pampered children and those who weren’t brave enough to cause a fuss – the greenwarden florist from before slamming his window doors shut, commanding his plants to grow into a shield that covered all entrances to his shop. Most Silvers were all too eager to use this news as a valid excuse to literally murder the Reds fleeing and crying in agony all around them. Donghyuck had witnessed more than enough of his kind be turned into cold crystal and then smashed into oblivion, three lives alone taken by the shiver who’d been picking on that nymph. Passing more and more piles of melting ice, Donghyuck wondered grimly if that was his brother, each time, melting away to feed the moss of the pavement.

To his relief, he spotted Jisung grappling with his bag strap on the other side of the street, by the printing press. _Of course he’d be visiting his crush in all this chaos_ , Donghyuck’s terribly disorganised mind thought first, his second thought being _holy shit I need to get him out of here_. Two leaps and he’d crossed the icy puddles of the main street, two more leaps and he’d be by his brother’s side. He only made it so far as one of those leaps before the wind was knocked out of him by something – someone – and he fell into the watery remains of a Red, fairly certain that some of the wetness was now his blood. All that money and the Silvers _still_ chose to have cobblestone streets; flat concrete would’ve been much nicer to Donghyuck’s face, but the sharp edge of stone had left a gash, his blood running for all the world to see. His vision blurred and darkened – he barely registered the figure looming over him.

A malevolent grin from a spindly-looking man could’ve been the last thing he saw before death, just as the desperate screams of his brother could’ve been the last thing he heard, but they weren’t.

A tidal wave of water brushed the man away, but he appeared on the other side of the streets after a blur – _a swift_. Did that little nymph from the fountain come to save him? _How can such a little girl cause all that?_ Frankly, his questions were answered when his saviour rushed over to Jisung and then over to him, speaking faster than the swift had fled. His clothes were different, smart – not tacky like most of the Silvers doing their shopping – and he was _helping them_. The gash on Donghyuck’s temple didn’t help his confusion, unless ‘helping’ meant making his confusion worse. The nymph boy created another huge wave that Donghyuck wouldn’t have thought possible for anything other than a storm or earthquake to cause – even a Silver shouldn’t have that much power. Maybe his burner royals did have reason to be scared of their enemy’s nymph royals, after all.

Granted, the nymph boy had done much more for them than he was probably supposed to (and Donghyuck had only registered a few seconds ago that the continuous watery feeling around his body was the nymph using the fountain water to carry his injured self through the street – and hopefully _just_ the fountain water), but that didn’t stop Donghyuck from letting out a frustrated whine when the boy abandoned them right before the gates, his unsteady feet landing awkwardly on that damn cobblestone. The only silver lining was that the blond boy’s voice had gotten quite annoying and only seemed to get higher pitched as they ran, the crescendo of the slaughtering crowds around them making the whole experience seem like one of those awful orchestral pieces the Silver aristocrats enjoyed so much, and now Donghyuck didn’t have to let his ears suffer that anymore.

“Hell w’s tha?” Was the only coherent thing that Donghyuck managed to mumble as Jisung dragged him to the gates.

“Oh, that was Chenle, I told you he was nice!” _Oh, the crush_. “Anyway, _please_ tell me you got something. This day’s already shitty as is, we deserve something good from it, right?”

Donghyuck was about to laugh and pull out the fancy schmancy silk from earlier, but then remembered how he’d lost it, brows furrowing as his face contorted into a frown before he could fake a different expression. His silence was enough answer for his brother. Donghyuck, in his brain dead and beaten up state, noticed the shift in his brother’s movements a moment too late.

Saving themselves from the war couldn’t have been worth it, the way Jisung inexpertly grabbed a fleeing Silver’s purse, more obvious and doomed than if Donghyuck had even _tried_ to get himself arrested. If they were going to get something no matter the cost, it should’ve been Donghyuck’s payment, not Jisung’s. He was certain it wasn’t worth the Guard that saw the crime, came up to them and grabbed his brother, another Guard holding Donghyuck firm from behind so he couldn’t reach Jisung, forced to pathetically watch and beg, all that he could possibly do, as the Guard took out his baton. _You know the rules_ , those words echoed in Donghyuck’s mind, accompanied by the wretched screams of his brother as the baton cracked against his legs.

**Author's Note:**

> dw guys he's ok  
> i realised i cut this bc it's just a straight rewrite of the first few chapters of red queen... huh  
> BUT i hope this explains why hyuck was rlly depressed at the start lmao, plus the whole red-silver divide etc  
> AND POWERS, I FORGOT I NEVER ACTUALLY EXPLAINED THEM ELSEWHERE??? (im so sorry oml)  
> so far i only tagged characters that i'm going to write little bits for (next up is nomin!) but if i get an idea i'll add them to the list!   
> i guess if you have particular requests for a character you can comment them, but this fic is mainly for breaks from writing markhyuck smh


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